Awake to Death

[Aerick Ravenheart]

Asleep
shattered memories
lain scattered in your head
a smudeon of hope rises
from the ashes of another
dream
So much forgotten already
just another lost vision
of the way in which
you wish it to be
Frozen
in time and dimensions
unknown and unfearing
unhearing conditions
left to carry on
forever
like a bronze acroterion
molded and set
to stand over graves
of the ones who sweat
and gave
blood and tears
until the end of their years
Holding as many
would hold a coliseum
branded for good
into this mausoleum
The dead make you shiver
and toss and turn
your lips quiver
and the eyes closed
still yearn
to just finally be
Awake
unbroken lives
still face the day
to breath and live
to work and play
so open eyes
to another sun
before we sleep
let's have some fun
as surely as life
from the womb flows
and endure such pain
as a murder of crows
black
pitch black
the sun of life is waning
to see in this dark
the eyes are straining
sun up
life
sun down
death
the next day
brings rebirth
newfound breath
the hours like years
the smiles turn
to tears
Awake with the sun
and live to
sleep with the dark
and die

[onesilverhand]

Coeur of the Black Bird...

Bullet between the eyes... this one... is it possible you were channeling me? I'm going to have to work on this and get back to you... keep this one, will you? I want to reflect on it and talk later.

Impressed ... (which IS saying something)

OSH

[Aerick Ravenheart]

(Bows respectfully)....I feel this one must be your favorite of mine? As far as a bullet between your eyes, well...BANG! You said you wanted me at my best performance, this is what is given unto you to read along with the other readers to reflect upon. Read on sweet children of the night......AR

[onesilverhand]

I promised to reflect on this piece and respond... so here I am back again..

I don't know that this one is favorite, I really like the GOTHIC ROMANCE, as it cuts across all lines, and speaks to the universal unrequieted lover in us all... it is as timeless as Shakespeare in its message, but is colored with contempory subculture.

No... what struck me about THIS poem was the imagery. These are not only haunting in and of themselves, but I really did have a deja' vu reading them. They are images that I have refelected on, dreamed, worked through, recorded in my own scattered pieces over time. They reoccur, they are rewritten in dust and wind and sometimes on the leaves of books. Scuttle and rattle. Pen and blood.

It raises a question about certain images, experiences, etc. about collective consciousness. Are we drifting in a dream pool? Somehow bumping into other dreamers? Like flotsom and jetsom from a burning ship of fools? Ghostly wreckage of some other time , some other mind?

Find your footing on a sure line. Carve a flute of bone so that the dead may sing again.

Silver